


a yellow sky

by thebitterbeast



Series: things you said [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, because you know i'd find a way to reach there when they find out the truth, in the long run this would lead to pre-slash, things you said meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebitterbeast/pseuds/thebitterbeast
Summary: Quiet contemplation and alcohol leads to a confession.Prompt: things you said that i wish you hadn’t.





	a yellow sky

**Author's Note:**

> as prompted by [shreeya](http://thegreatsapphicvein.tumblr.com/) on tumblr forever ago - things you said that i wish you hadn't.

It was the alcohol that did it.

The moonshine had been flowing freely in their rudimentary camp, and Wells was just about emotionally exhausted enough to snag himself a few of the bottles that had been poured and find himself a corner of the dropship to sit in alone. All he wanted to do was drink to forget the ache in his chest, the loneliness that was larger than the on he had lived with for so long. The ever-present shadow of his father loomed over him, and he wanted to scream himself hoarse with the unfair broad strokes that painted them the villains of the story.

Except he knew that to the kids around him, free for the first time from the rigid constraints of the Ark, he _was_ the villain. His father represented the rules and regulations that had hurt all of them, and even if Wells knew that those same rules and regulations had hurt his father too, they did not.

It was easier then to slip away, disappear into the night with nothing but his thoughts and the bottles for company. He hardly expected to find Bellamy doing the same thing.

Wells stopped in his tracks, too tired at the thought of arguing with the older man. There was no where else he could think to make his escape.

“You just gonna stand there? I'm not going to shoot you, you know.” Bellamy took a long sip of his moonshine, not meeting his eyes.

There was something in his tone that caught Wells’ attention, a bitterness he did not understand but found himself wanting to. What did Bellamy have to be bitter of, when the others in their camp looked up at him the way they did?

A darker part of him wondered if Bellamy finally understood his father’s position as the Chancellor, and the pitfalls of the power that had been placed in his hands.

He kept silent as he took careful steps towards Bellamy, leaving some space between them tha. He lowered himself to the floor and set the bottles in the empty space between them, a silent invitation. A truce, for the moment; for a breather among the chaos Wells was sure Bellamy had to realise he could not control.

Bellamy paused in the process of taking a sip, raising his eyebrows at Wells. The younger man steadfastly attempted to ignore him, taking a sip of his own. It did not have to be a big deal, because it was not. It just was.

Besides, having someone sitting next to him meant it was less likely that Wells would get too far lost in his thoughts. It was a line for him to hold on to as he fought from drowning under the wave of his emotions. They did not have to talk, or do anything beyond sit besides each other.

For this minute, Wells was not alone, and he felt like he could breathe.

“I killed your father.”

And he was back to feeling suffocated. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and Wells could do nothing but stare blankly in front of him. Bellamy was still speaking. He could hear him, but the words would not register and he wanted the older man to stop. To stop talking. to stop for a second. Because Wells was still stuck on the words that had shattered his life.

He took a shaky breath. And then another. He opened his mouth to tell Bellamy – to tell him what? To shut up? To go to hell? To please just leave him alone? He closed his mouth without saying anything and put his bottle down. He pushed himself to his feet and walked away, barely registering Bellamy calling out after him.

There had been an apology somewhere in Bellamy’s words, Wells knew that. An explanation, an abject misery – perhaps even a search for absolution or damnation. But at this moment Wells did not care. He wanted the last ten minutes to never have happened.

His father was dead.

A cheer rang out in the crowd, and Wells startled. They would react that way if they knew, and with a pounding heart, the wave of loneliness crashed into him, dragging him under.

He was alone.

He was always going to be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> not my best work, but angst! and pain! and I kind of want to continue this!


End file.
